


Shape of Things to Come

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 30-Day Fic Meme, Canon Compliant, Day 1, Drabble, Holding Hands, M/M, Preview, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I think your lady of Stark is staring at us,” Margaery—now Lady Margaery of House Baratheon—murmured into her husband’s ear, leaning closer to him so as not to be overheard.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“So it would seem,” he whispered back, giving his newly-wed wife a chaste kiss on the cheek even as Margaery saw his hand tighten over her brother’s, safely out of sight under the table. “I suspect she suspects.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shape of Things to Come

**Author's Note:**

> I've never taken the 30-Day OTP Challenge, "porn" or otherwise, because I've never had an OTP before. And then ASoIaF came along. This is my "Day 1: Holding hands" drabble, just to give a bit of a quick preview; once this behemoth of a challenge is done, I'll upload them in one big monster of a fic.

**Day 1: Holding hands**

* * *

 

“I think your lady of Stark is staring at us,” Margaery—now Lady Margaery of House Baratheon—murmured into her husband’s ear, leaning closer to him so as not to be overheard. The wedding festivities were as raucous as could be expected from the camp—Renly’s followers were never a specially sober lot, and Margaery would fear for life and limb when the time for bedding came. 

King Renly, as he styled himself, shot a glance down the long table. “So it would seem,” he whispered back, giving his newly-wed wife a chaste kiss on the cheek even as Margaery saw his hand tighten over her brother’s, safely out of sight under the table. “I suspect she suspects.”

“I would, were I in her place. You’re not particularly careful,” Margaery replied under her breath, all exasperation on the top of it, but a passing fondness beneath. “We’re _wed_ now.”

Renly’s free hand moved to her hair, twirling a curl around his finger. “And we’ll be bedded, and all will be done aright in the world. You shall be queen,” here he turned to Loras, “and I shall have a tragic accident that leaves you regent whilst I live out my days in the Free Cities with this one.” Renly laughed at his own wit. 

Margaery returned, with a smile of challenge, “This is, of course, assuming you’re…capable.”

Ser Loras, who had hitherto been ignoring the conversation, caught the final bit and burst into uproarious laughter as all the color drained from his lover’s face. He gave the king’s hand a squeeze, invisible to the party, stroking over it with fingers callused from swordplay. Renly’s face, schooled into the visage of the perfect lord and husband, flickered a moment into _want_ as he gazed upon his new lady’s elder brother, and she herself laughed a low-pitched, clever laugh into his ear. 

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable, my _love_ ,” she murmured, teeth grazing his ear, “if you can only figure out where to _put_ it.”

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Renly, one of his wedding party caught a glance of the new-made queen’s gesture, sending up the cry of, “Bed! Bed them! To bed!” to which the rest of the party quickly caught on, lifting Renly away from his love, carrying him to duty’s own chamber, stripping him along the way.


End file.
